


pretty.

by INeedTherapy



Series: gang au [2]
Category: ASTRO (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I almost forgot the most important part, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lots of Angst, Multi, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why?, because I said so, sanha and jeonghan are related, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:29:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14530632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedTherapy/pseuds/INeedTherapy
Summary: Lee Dongmin had always been defined as a pretty boy, a fact that (so far) had only caused him pain and misery. Abuse from his father's men, bullying from his classmates, it was too much.It hurt that no one noticed.little did he know; someone noticed.orbin is a bad boy™ and falls for the boy with too many bruises for them all to be accidents and Makes It His Business™dongmin just wonders how the hell this could have all happened





	1. 1

Fact; Lee Dongmin was definitely defined as a  _ pretty boy _ . Thanks to that fact, he isn’t hated within his school-- only alienated, which, believe it or not, was an improvement. The female (and some of the male) population thought he was good-looking, which definitely aided his social standing, but he was too pretty to be befriended, and too quiet to not be a freak. Those who didn’t tolerate him for his looks, or stay away out of fear of also being outcasted, made it their personal mission to make his life a living hell through taunts and verbal abuse. Luckily, they didn’t take it any further than that, for fear of getting caught. However, it didn’t really matter whether or not they beat him up, because he had five guys once he got home to do that for them. 

Now, most people would assume that, since it occurred at his own home, his parents would find out and stop them. Thing was, Dongmin’s father didn’t actually see him enough to know and even if he did find out, he would never believe his son about who it was-- his underlings. Dongmin’s father had probably seen a bruise or two on his son, but didn’t really care; so what if his twink of a son was getting tormented at school? Serves him right, and maybe it’ll toughen him up into someone that he didn’t have to pretend wasn’t his son. As for his mother, she was dead. Nothing else to it. She couldn’t stop something that she wasn’t alive to see. 

The kids at his school didn’t care really. They minded their own business, kept to themselves, and avoided any and all interactions with Dongmin, unless it couldn’t be avoided, like if a teacher partnered them. Even then, they tended to distribute the work evenly between them (or just shove it all on Dongmin, depending on who it was) and finish as quickly as humanly possible. Dongmin was exempt from verbal presentations, usually, as his teachers knew there was nothing that could get him to talk-- not in private, and especially not in front of an entire class. He submitted the written work, and was done with it. 

Other kids tended to be jealous, not aware of the fact that Dongmin couldn’t even speak if he wanted to; at some point since ninth grade, when he had become selectively mute. When he considered speaking for even a moment, he suddenly panicked, and stopped trying at once. Nothing could make him talk, even fear or threats or abuse. His father’s men, Woo Kyung-Goo, Sung Jun-Seo, Changgok Seung-Gi,  Su Jin-Ho and Kyo Shi-Woo, didn’t care that they couldn’t get him to talk, and continued to beat him for it anyway.  _ Lessons _ , the men had called them.  _ To make you better, less of a useless slut than you are now _ . No matter the punishments and force they implemented to get Dongmin to speak, he wouldn’t-- he couldn’t. 

So, the abuse got worse. The men were getting more reckless and even more violent. The teen often wondered what would happen if someone found out-- and what would happen if no one did. If no one ever found out, Dongmin thinks, then he might just kill himself. Not like anyone would miss him, or care. It would be so easy, and soon enough, it would all be done. No more abuse or suffering or misery, only the sweet freedom and release of death.  _ But no _ , he thinks,  _ dying would mean I’m letting them win. And people like that shouldn’t be allowed to win _ . 

 

Little did Dongmin know, someone noticed. Someone, named Moon Bin. A junior to Dongmin’s freshmen. A boy with tattoos, and piercings, and dark eyes, and even darker coffee. Bad Boy™ of the school, every girl and guy’s dream, with strong posture and muscular arms, perfectly complimenting his strong-and-sassy demeanor. While everyone assumed he just got into fights and skipped every class possible, no one noticed that he had perfect attendance in one class-- fourth period A.P Literature. He saw a lot more than anyone was willing to give him credit for, and he used that to his advantage. Bin saw the pain in his classmate’s eyes, and the way he occasionally had a slight limp in his usually soft, graceful gait. Bin was unashamed to admit that he had a bit (a lot) of a crush on the other boy, and he didn’t want to see him looking the way he did now; sad and in pain. So, he watched and waited for the right moment. That moment came with a grain of salt; the teacher in A.P Lit decided that the next project they would do would be a partner project. Bin stayed after class, pretending to be on his phone while the other kids filtered out. When the last student had disappeared out the door, he sauntered up to the teacher’s desk, causing the old man sitting there to look up. 

“May I help you, Mister Moon?” 

Bin smirked then, and spoke confidently, “Yes, actually. You said that for the project, we would be assigned partners?” He pressed on, not waiting for an answer from the professor, “Well, I would like to be partnered with Lee Dongmin.”

The teacher’s head tilted, as if searching the boy before him’s soul for any unsavory ulterior motives. Seemingly finding none, the older man nodded. “The boy does need some sort of social life or friends, so I suppose I can pair you two together. Go off, now, you’ll be late for your classes.”

Bin nodded, thanking his teacher, before striding out of the classroom.

_ Great _ , he thought, eyes alight with joy.

 

Dongmin walked out of the school, in no rush to get home to his abusers. 

_ He should have rushed. _   
  



	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously;
> 
> "Dongmin walked out of the school, in no rush to get home to his abusers.  
> He should have rushed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, I am really sorry about the intense amount of posting of the same story there was, that was weird. Second, I fucked up the grades. Dongmin stopped speaking in eighth grade, not ninth. I forgot that ninth=freshmen so yeah. be aware, and sorry. (Dongmin is a freshman)  
> also, a really big space thingy pretty much means either a slight change in view point, or a time lapse, so let that be known. Thanks for reading my shit story, and enjoy more consistent updates (mostly) every week or two weeks  
> Also, this is unbeta'd. I try to edit, but expect hella mistakes, and comment below if you find any. If you wanna be my beta, comment below and we can set it up!

Dongmin entered the code for the gate to his house, smiling softly at the old woman who greeted him on the lawn. The gardener, Jangmi, had insisted a long time ago that Dongmin only know her by her first name. They were friends, she had said. Friends aren’t formal. The woman had been there since Dongmin was a child, before he stopped speaking; she kept the garden with his mother, and they used to teach him the sweet songs they learned growing up. The boy rarely sang them around anyone besides his mother and Jangmi, even before he lost his voice, and she lost her life.  _ Those men are too rough for you, Minnie _ , his mother spoke softly, answering question as to why he shouldn’t sing around them.  _ They’ll ruin your pretty little voice with their not-so-pretty words. _ His mother’s sweet tone had been laced with bitterness. Later, after she passed, Jangmi would tell Dongmin that his mother didn’t fall in love with his father. Their parents wanted the relationship between their gangs to grow strong, and so they forced them to marry. 

Dongmin shook the thoughts from his head, preparing himself for the tortures that awaited him. As he reached for the door knob, the door was opened and he was manhandled inside. The gasp caught in his throat as a hand gripped around his neck. His air supply cut off, Dongmin attempted to remove the hand from around his neck, so he could breathe. Though his fingers grasped and he struggled, the hand remained undeterred from its place around his neck. 

A voice whispered in his ear, sounding just as greasy and awful as he remembered it from the day before. “Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be home ten minutes ago.” 

Dongmin flinched, blinking back tears as he realized just how angry Shiwoo was. The older man growled, tightening his hand minutely, just enough that Dongmin finally started to see black in his vision.

_ Any vision is better than one of that disgusting man’s face _ , he thought, welcoming the darkness. 

Just when he thought he would be free from the conscious world of pain and torment, Shiwoo let go and Dongmin fell to the ground, breathing heavily to make up for all the air he lost. The breath was knocked out of him once again as the other man, Jinho, delivered a heavy kick to the young boy’s stomach, effectively leaving him breathless yet again. The others laughed, watching their toy struggle on the ground. 

“If you wanna be late again, we’ll give you a reason to be,” Seunggi sneered.

Dongmin’s confusion was cut off by Seunggi nodding at Kyung and the man, who had remained silent and inconspicuous until this point, simply stepped forward and crushed Dongmin’s ankle beneath a heavy boot. Dongmin let out a scream, only to be lifted from the ground, a hand covering his mouth before he could emit any more noise. 

Dongmin flinched as the hand gripped his jaw and the older man holding him whispered into his ear. He tried to look past his assailant, out the window, to distract himself. His eyes widened minutely as he noticed someone from his school look through the window. One of the seniors, Dongmin’s mind supplied. The boy looked as though he wanted to help, but Dongmin just shook his head subtly, trying to convey that helping was a bad idea, without alerting his captors to the fact they had been found out.

The other boy hesitated, but Dongmin was forced to look away at the sound of the back door slamming shut. His father was home. The men surrounding him let him fall quietly, if unceremoniously, to the floor, rushing to make themselves look innocent. As much as Dongmin’s father didn’t care for his only son, he wouldn’t tolerate anything from his underlings, much less a blatant show of disrespect by them tormenting his own son under his nose.

_ Then again _ , Dongmin thought bitterly,  _ he may actually thank them for it, the sadistic bastard he is _ . 

So, the men cleared out, doing their best to appear as if they had just arrived and were eager to get to work under the leader of the gang, a gang commonly referred to as the Crows.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grades, for clarification, mostly for my own sake, cuz I suck at everything:  
> Dongmin-- freshmen  
> Bin-- junior  
> MJ-- senior  
> Jinwoo-- senior  
> sanha-- eighth grader, jinwoo's little brother  
> Minhyuk-- eighth grader


	3. 3

Myungjun had just been walking home, the same route as usual, if a little later than usual (thanks to his boyfriend) when he heard it. A scream coming from the mansion that was a block from his house. 

Of course, Myungjun knew that there must have been something going on in that house, for there were always duffle bags, large crates, nice cars, vans, and shady people coming in, around, and out of that house. He also knew that a freshman from his high school lived in that house. He had seen him leave there a few times, in the mornings, and later seeing him at school, in the halls. Myungjun knew the kid didn’t talk, he knew that the last time he heard that kid say anything was when he was a Junior and the other boy was an eighth grader. He had heard giggles and singing from the garden in front of the mansion, two older women singing along with the younger boy. 

However, the senior could have never imagined that the silent freshmen who gave off a pleasant-enough demeanor at school, was being beaten in his own home. The boy-- seemingly being held back by another figure-- and himself made eye contact through the window, and Myungjun made a gesture as though he wished to help the younger male. The other just shook his head carefully, eyes sad and hopeless. 

Something must have happened within the confines of the house that Myungjun couldn’t see or hear because the boy was dropped to the floor, and figures flitted about in the window. Myungjun blinked and creeped forward slightly to get a better view, and possibly help the other with the wounds he surely had, if the dark bruises around his jawline were any indication. The boy rose from the ground, and the men who must have been attacking him shoulder-checked the thin teen as they walked by. Myungjun winced in time with the other student in the house. 

 

The two high school students made eye contact once again, and the one residing within the house gestured for the other to come forward. Myungjun did so, and Dongmin pointed to something in the garden. The senior, following his line of sight, saw an old lady caring to carnations. MJ gestured to her with a questioning look and Dongmin nodded. So, he proceeded over, footsteps feeling too loud in the peaceful setting of the garden. The woman looked up, kind eyes inspecting the male before her. Unknowing of what to do at this point, Myungjun offered a smile and bow, accompanying a formal greeting; he didn’t know how adverse she would be to his presence. 

The lady smiled and laughed, admonishing him with, “No formalities here, young man. Now, what can I do for you?”

MJ blushed brightly and spoke just a little too loudly. “I’m not quite sure, really. Uh, the kid in there,” he acknowledged the mansion, “kind of waved me over. I, uh, was concerned. He looked kinda hurt? I just did what he told me to do. Or, not  _ told _ exactly, I know he can’t talk, but uh. . . yeah?”

The ajumma just laughed a little louder, amused at the young man’s confusion and flustered demeanor towards herself. “Go to that shed back there, young man. It’s the one connected to the house. My boy will probably meet you there, if I know him like I think I do,” she spoke through her chuckles.

Myungjun nodded with a large, sunny smile, and said goodbye to the kind ajumma. He walked towards the indicated location of the shed, almost missing her words of “Be careful not to break anything, dear!” as he tripped a little, almost causing some planters to be knocked over. 

He smiled sheepishly back at her mockingly-disappointed face and went into the shed.

_ Here goes nothing _ , MJ thought to himself.

He pulled open the door, careful not to make a noise. God knows what the men in there would do to him, if they happened to find him. Myungjun was met with a tall and lanky body blocking his path into the house. MJ bit his lip glancing at the face of the human wall before him. He sighed in relief as he saw that it was just the boy he had seen from earlier, and not some shady man, built like a bulldozer, ready to rip his throat out and strangle his dead body with it.

The boy giggled quietly. “That’s a rather well-thought out image of your death by the hands of one of them. I do hope I’m not crushing your dreams of a violent death too much?” His hands moved with fluidity, sureness, and grace.

MJ blinked. “God am I thankful for taking that KSL course over the summer. Here I was thinking I could only use it to talk to my friends in class! What’s your name?”

It was Dongmin’s turn to blink. He hadn’t thought anyone else would know KSL fluently enough to understand his remarks. Or understand anything he signed at all, really. A miniscule smile grace his face, but he winced as the bruises on his jaw flared in pain. The boy before him noticed, of course, and skillfully signed back to Dongmin, “I’m Myungjun, but for both of our sakes, just MJ will work.” 

MJ switched to back to spoken Korean. “Now, where are your medical supplies and your room? Because, no offense, but your face needs it.”

The freshman nodded, eyes lowered to the ground, and led his guest-- “guest” being used rather loosely-- through a series of back stairwells and suspiciously well-hidden hallways.

_ Escape routes? _ Myungjun asked himself.  _ But an escape from what? _

Drawn from his internal inquiries, MJ and the other boy, who had yet to name himself to the senior, came to stop at a door. 

“Are you taking me to Narnia?” Myungjun had to break the peaceful quiet with a short quip about the mysteriousness of the whole situation.

The boy before him quirked his lips into a smirk before nodding and pushing the door open, leaving Myungjun speechless. The room was beautiful; the soft and muted, autumn-reminiscent tones blanketing him in comfort and warmth, highlighted by sheer and delicate white tulle surrounding the bed placed in the corner. The bed was buried in pillows and blankets, soft greys and ivories, books lining the shelves above the barely-larger-than-twin-sized bed. The walls were of exposed russet-colored brick, and the door was a pleasant shade of brown-orange, not too overwhelmingly bright. Like the color of a fallen leaf as the days get frigid and the people get bundled up tighter. 

Faery lights were the room’s only illumination, strung up along the walls thoughtfully; as if someone had a carefully considered envisage in their mind whilst shaping the lights into something other-worldly. Polaroid pictures had been taped to the edges of a window-- through which one could see flower-riddled vines-- and somehow pinned to the brick walls. MJ stepped forward hesitantly, careful not to disturb the ambience of the bedroom. Looking at the Polaroids, they captured the likenesses of everything from the silhouettes of a family of three walking away, to the silky petals of a Morning Glory after a drizzle.

A typewriter sat on a small desk parallel to the door, looking well-used, despite the computer sitting closed on the bed. Most people would opt for leaving the typewriter and sticking to the computer. So why didn’t he?

MJ stepped back to his original place near the door they had come through, and spared a glance at the window yet again, wondering why the light of the outside world wasn’t glaring in through the flower vines. He started in shock however, when, instead of seeing foliage, he was met with the amused eyes of the owner of the room. The older boy jumped a little bit, placing his hand against the wall to steady himself, only to recoil again. He had expected to feel the grainy, rough texture of brick, but instead was met with the smoothness of thick layers of paint. 

“Jesus Christ, that door did lead to Narnia, didn’t it? Because, apparently, that window is a mirror, and the brick walls aren’t brick, and you write with a typewriter, and I’m pretty fucking sure that’s a cat right there, so we’re gonna call you the lion. Thus making you sir,” Myungjun gestured at Dongmin, “the witch, and that door must lead to some wardrobe!”

MJ walked over to the orange  door, praying that it would open under his touch. But alas, no such luck. The door was not a door, but a painting of a door on the wall. 

“I think I’m gonna cry.”

  
  
  



	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no summary. a majority of this is crack to make up for my depression and lack of inspiration, so deal with it. love y'all, thanks for reading <3<3 ;)

_ “I think I’m gonna cry.” _

“And  _ I _ will cry if I don’t grab some ice. Here’s the first aid kit.” Dongmin balanced the box on his head as he signed to his new friend. MJ gaped, and Dongmin’s eyes widened as a tear fell down the senior’s cheek. 

“Oh my god, how much free time do you have? No, don’t answer that,” Myungjun said as Dongmin lifted his hands to sign, “I already know that the answer is  _ entirely too much _ .”

The older boy grabbed the box from the top of the injured boy’s head, and motioned for him to sit down on the bed. MJ made quick work of applying bruise salve to the bruises on the younger male’s jaw, and had him lay back further on the bed to examine the bruises on his abdomen. MJ felt around gently, asking Dongmin questions as he went. A steady stream of  _ Is it hard to breathe? _ and  _ Tell me if this hurts _ and  _ Do you feel anything poking into your lungs? I wanna make sure you didn’t break a rib.  _

Dongmin tried to respond in detail, aid the other in the process, but his ankle was beginning to throb more than it had been. He must have been too distracted to notice the pain whilst he was leading the senior to and around his room. The taller boy decided to sign the question he had been wondering about since MJ had started looking him over.

Dongmin tapped on his shoulder to gain his attention before signing. “How do you know how to do all of this stuff?”

MJ used spoken Korean to answer, wanting to continue with examining his patient. “My boyfriend tends to get in a lot of fights, and I made him swear he would come to me if he got injured. He made good on his promise, and will continue to do so, if he wants to keep his boyfriend.”

Dongmin’s eyes widened minutely, but a smile stretched across his lips at the other high schooler’s antics. The smile dropped from his face with a flinch as Myungjun moved his hands to the boy’s ankle.

“Does this hurt?” A nod. “Minnie, I need to make sure nothing is broken, okay? It’s gonna hurt a bit, be aware.” Dongmin nodded his head even as a blush spread across his cheeks at the affectionate nickname. With consent granted, MJ began the painful task of removing the Converse and socks from Dongmin’s feet, and checking for any serious swelling or bruising. 

The senior frowned sympathetically at finding the younger boy’s ankle covered in pink, purple, and brown bruises. Luckily, the swelling seemed to be minimal. Upon further inquiry, MJ found that it hurt a bit for Dongmin to walk or move his foot. Swiftly finishing up what he was doing, Myungjun asked if the other boy had any ice packs for the bruising on his ankle, and any painkiller for his. . . well, his everything. 

The taller boy nodded his head, eyebrows still slightly scrunched together from the pain in his body. He reached around himself to the left, fingers feeling around for a familiar notch in the painted wall. Having found it, he tugged gently, revealing a well-hidden drawer filled with various medicines. Dongmin tilted his head to look for the bottle of painkillers, handing the nearly-empty container to Myungjun, who was shaking his head forlornly. 

“Can you get out two of them? I’ll take more tonight, but I still have to finish a bit of homework for Maths, and I don’t want to pass out before I can finish.”

MJ furrowed his eyebrow at the injured boy’s dedication to finishing his homework, but complied. He swung his backpack down from his shoulder, and searched through it for the water bottle he knew was there. Grasping the bottle and tugging it free from the hellishly disorganized confines of his backpack with a hum of triumph, he handed both the two pills and the open water bottle to his younger friend, helping the boy to sit up so he could take them. 

Satisfied for the moment, MJ pulled his phone from his pocket to find a handful of messages from his doting mother, and a few calls from his boyfriend. He pressed the Call Back button on his boyfriend’s number, and typed out a quick message consisting of  _ I’m okay, I just got caught up with a friend, I’ll be home later. Love you!!  _ for his mother. MJ’s boyfriend picked up on the third ring. 

“Hey Jinnie!” Myungjun called cheerfully into the phone at his ear.

“Where are you? I’ve been calling for a while. You said you’d be home right after school.” Jinwoo’s voice was filled with worry for his danger-prone boyfriend.

“I’m okay, I’m with a friend.”

“With a frie-- Jun, it’s almost five!”

MJ’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. Look, I can call you later, but I’m a little busy right now. Love you, bye.” The senior hung up his phone, cutting off his boyfriend’s response. 

“I will be fine. I can handle everything from here, Myungjun-sunbaenim.”

“No formal speak for me, kid. You caused me to cry just from having a trippy as hell bedroom, we’re past the point of a  _ sunbae _ - _ hoobae _ relationship. Are you sure, though? I don’t want to leave you here if you’ll end up hurt,” he signed. The  _ again _ went unsaid.

“I will be fine, your boyfriend seems worried. I will walk you out.” Dongmin signed slowly, a serene smile on his, rather pretty, (now that MJ thought of it) face. 

“Okay,” he signed back, hands hesitating before moving.

They made the trek back to where MJ had entered and wished each other goodbye and good luck, Myungjun promising to find the other at school the next day.

Finally stepping outside of the shed from which he entered, the high school student paused. 

_ Was that. . . Jinwoo’s car?  _ he thought,  _ Shit. _


	5. 5

_ Was that. . . Jinwoo’s car?  _ he thought.  _ Shit. _

MJ walked forward, head hung low in shame, anticipating a scolding from his incessantly overprotective boyfriend.

“Jun, what the hell are you doing at this house, of all places?” Jinwoo’s worried voice rang out from where he was standing by the dark-colored car.

MJ stood still, letting himself be hugged. “What do you mean,  _ at this house of all places _ ? Jinwoo?” Myungjun quickly grew impatient at his lover’s sudden silence.

“It’s. . . not safe here. Come on, let’s just go, your mom was worried sick. Worried enough to let me in without keeping a broom near by to hit me with.” Jinwoo corrected himself at his boyfriend’s glare, “I’ll explain more when we get back, but for now, we should go.”

Myungjun shook his head at Jinwoo’s cryptic words. The only thing he found in there that was unsafe was the men who beat the frail-looking boy he met.  _ Lee Dongmin _ . The tall, enigma of a boy; undeniably pretty-- enough to be incredibly popular-- but too scared to embrace it. His dizzying yet artful bedroom, bright smile accompanied by sad eyes.

He was shaken from his thoughts by his boyfriend opening the car door for him, urging him in with a kind smile. Returning the look, MJ stepped in and the couple was soon off on their short journey to Myungjun’s family house. The older boy (but only by a few months, as Jinwoo loved to remind him) couldn’t help but smile at Jinwoo, for he knew now that he could have ended up much worse in the terms of life. He had a loving relationship with an amazing man, great friends, and a family of people who loved and accepted him. He could have ended up worse. He could have ended up like the boy he just left in that horrible house.

He could be in Dongmin’s place.

 

In Dongmin’s home, dinner was an odd affair. 

From the silence with which the two family members ate, to the tension becoming almost comfortable in its constant presence. This was per routine, something Dongmin found almost reassuring in its consistency, if a little painful in the emptiness and lack of emotion. At least he wasn’t being hit. Dongmin liked to look on the bright side, wash away the persistent darkness. 

However, the usual routine didn’t last long, as his father spoke, voice as deep and resonating as ever. “Dongmin. Where and how  _ exactly _ did you acquire those bruises on your face?” His son looked like he wanted to sink into the ground beneath him rather than answer his father’s question.

The boy looked up, afraid to meet his father’s eyes as he attempted to speak to his father for the first time in nearly two years. This had happened before, occasionally, when his tormentors or father wished to be particularly cruel. Dongmin opened his mouth, the words forming in his mind, but were unable to come out. He tried nonetheless, even knowing that the most that would come out of this would be giving himself an anxiety attack. The high schooler could already feel the panic seeping into his mind, into his very being, until he gave up at long last.

His father looked on in mild disappointment. As his youngest son finally seemed to surrender, he called one of his men over to retrieve a dry erase board for his son to write on to communicate. The boy’s father knew his son hated it, hated the board. It was demeaning, and he was so much smarter than writing on a board because his father couldn’t be bothered to learn KSL for the sake of his son. The gang leader didn’t care that his eldest son had begun learning with his youngest as soon as the boys had met up again, the oldest coming home from college for the summer. He refused to do anything for his disgrace of a son. Either of them.

As Mister Lee’s underling returned, the gang member subtly shoved the board forcefully into the younger boy’s already bruised chest, causing him to flinch in pain and fear. His father was too busy ordering the other soldiers to leave them to notice his son’s abuse. 

_ Or maybe he really doesn’t care? _ Dongmin’s mind supplied.

Attention returned to his youngest, the  father leader impatiently awaited an answer to his question. The boy before him avoided eye contact, ashamed. He thought for a moment of what to write, setting the materials down to sign-- to express his thoughts with-- another remark. “So, now you decide to give a shit. Typical.”

His father’s eyes narrowed testily, and Dongmin felt himself shrinking in fear. A look like that usually meant he wouldn’t be able to walk without a limp, or breathe without pain, for a few days. He wrote quickly, deciding that the truth may just be worth the risk. What could his father do?  _ Beat _ him? 

_ I came home a little while late. Ten minutes, if that. They didn’t like that, so they beat me. It’s not new. My chest is worse than my face. _

Frown etched on his undeniably handsome features, Dongmin’s father read the explanation. The boy didn’t raise his eyes from his lap. With a searching look, the other man in the room noticed his son’s eyes were shut tight, hands shaking from where they were rested on his thighs. He was afraid. 

_ But afraid of what? _ His father asked himself.  _ Me or the people he spoke of who hit him? _

“Lift your shirt, Dongmin. And answer me this, who are  _ they _ ?”

 

MJ’s night was filled with scolding from both his mother and boyfriend, both of which having been worried for him when he pretty much disappeared after he left school. The senior felt incredibly guilty, knowing his mother was incredibly protective of him after her husband passed away. They were the only family they had left, and Miss Kim would be damned before she let anything happen to her baby. So, they stayed around each other, and watched plenty of movies (after a well-deserved scolding on Myungjun’s part). So caught up in guilt and motherly affection, MJ didn’t realize that Jinwoo never did explain to him what he had meant, earlier that evening.

Meanwhile, Dongmin’s was filled with a thick silence and aching. After having shown the dark bruises on his torso, Mister Lee almost looked pained. Yet, Dongmin lied again to his father, trying to play off his obvious lie about how he was “just being bullied by senior classmates” and while that was true, they weren’t the cause of tonight’s bruises. But his father would never believe him, even if he believed the  _ violent classmates _ story even less. So, Dongmin lied, and left the dining room after that, knowing his father would send for the staff to clean the dishes. Normally, Dongmin would help, as the staff were always nice company, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care tonight, instead wondering to his room to finish the last of his homework before going to sleep. He was graced with a dreamless sleep, very much welcomed after having dealt with dreadful nightmares for a long time, previous to this night. God knew what nightmares would await him in the coming day, so he took the restful sleep as a gift.

 

The next day was eventful. At least, for Dongmin, whose usual social interactions were limited to  [I and Am and Groot. Exclusively in that order] half-awkward smiles and nods from classmates as he walks by, so as to not really interact, but also not seem rude. But, today, the kid he met the night before, MJ, hailed him over at the first chance he got. During the free period before fourth started. 

“Dongminnie! Hey, come join us for free period!” the senior called to his younger friend, as the latter tried to make it to the library unnoticed. 

The freshmen looked up, shocked at any acknowledgement, much less from a senior, but relaxed minutely upon finding that it was only MJ, not one of his (many) high school bullies. He managed a small smile in return, but still shook his head no, feeling that Myungjun was only inviting him out of either pity or curtesy. 

“I’m fine, you don’t have to. . .” the taller boy’s hands slowed in their movements as his shorter acquaintance shook his head vigorously. 

Pursing his lips, MJ signed, a kind glint in his eyes. “I’m not doing this for any reason you’re thinking of. I want to hang out with you.” He jokingly did the sign for  _ Scout’s Honour _ .

Dongmin laughed slightly, more of an exhale than anything, but it still caused the other to brighten. Gently tugging his friend forward towards his group, Myungjun grinned slyly. They continued forward, the younger of the two hanging back behind MJ, almost meekly hiding from the new people. Myungjun just continued to smile and force Dongmin forward to socialize. 

“Hey guys! Come on, meet my new friend. His name’s Dongmin and he’s a freshman. Wait, you are a freshie, right? I haven’t seen you at this school before so I assumed. . .” MJ rambled, not noticing the fond smile one of the other boys aimed at him.

The freshman’s eyes widened, glossing over just a little, before he nodded. The nervous boy attempted a smile which he is sure ended up more of a grimace.

The group of four staring back at him seemed to simultaneously coo at the shy kid before them. However, one of the four seemed more shocked than the others. 

Introductions proceeded; a tall, black-haired sophomore greeting him as Yoon Sanha; a shorter, more intense-looking sophomore introducing himself as Park Minhyuk; and Park Jinwoo, Minhyuk’s older brother, with his flamboyantly colored teal hair, who Dongmin realized, must have been Myungjun’s senior boyfriend.

And finally, “Hey, I know you. We have fourth period together, I’m Moon Bin.”

Dongmin’s eyes flicked up from their intent gaze upon the floor beneath him, sparing a glance at the older boy. The taller boy did recognize him, and not entirely for the best reasons (aside from their shared Literature class). A good fraction of this group was known around the school for being typical  _ Bad Boys _ , always breaking the rules, class schedules, and (naturally) the dress code.

_ No hair dye. No obnoxious piercings. Shirts must be kept tucked in. No distracting makeup. Uniforms must be worn correctly at all times, sans the last Friday of every month.  _ Dongmin recalled the uptight demeanor of the principal during orientation, while he went over the school rules. 

And still, almost all of the members of the group before him were breaking a rule in some way. Except, of course, for Sanha; who looked every bit the adorably well-mannered teacher’s pet his reputation proceeds him as. They all had multiple piercings, most of which could be defined as  _ obnoxious _ ; Minhyuk’s eyebrow and multiple places on his ears were pierced, Bin with a nose ring and double helix piercings, and Jinwoo with a lip and tongue piercing that Dongmin noticed when he introduced himself. Meanwhile, Sanha was adorned with simple hoops and diamonds on his double piercings, and Myungjun with none at all.

The youngest was roused from his analyses of the group by the oldest enthusiastically stating that Dongmin also knew KSL, and that he could interact with them that way.

He was met with looks of confusion and curiosity at the seemingly odd declaration.

“Minnie here doesn’t talk. And if I catch you being dicks, even if I know you won’t be, I am fully prepared to dye all of your clothes pink. Except Sanha. I’ll dye his green.”

All five of them were staring back at MJ with wide eyes, and Dongmin with a furious blush as well.

“You just met me yesterday, though?” Dongmin signed, hands shaking a little.

“But MJ has good people sense, he wouldn’t be your friend if he didn’t like you, or think we would like you,” Jinwoo smiled kindly as he moved his hands in fluid motions, the others nodding their agreements.

“Come on, let’s go outside for a bit, we can hang out in the fresh air, outside of this prison.” Minhyuk had switched to spoken Korean, so as to be understood as he turned around and walked toward the school’s exit.

Sanha sighed, shooting Dongmin a bemused look as he followed his ever-rebellious boyfriend through the hallways. The former blinked, but soon shook himself out of it, and followed along behind the other four and next to none other than Bin.

“If I may ask. . .” the older started, gaining his younger companion’s attention, “is there any particular reason that you don’t speak? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Glancing at the other, the freshman searched his eyes for any signs of judgement or cruelty, instead finding only curiosity and compassion. Setting aside his confusion at the compassion part, Dongmin lifted his hands to answer.

“I’m not sure I am ready to tell you that,” he signed, not meeting his eyes, instead staring fixedly ahead at the others, who were laughing jovially.

“That’s okay. We should hurry and catch up, though. Don’t wanna get left behind now.” The junior flashed him a playful grin, prompting Dongmin to smile right back.

They went off, soon meeting the others outside the building, and being met with light teasing from Sanha about how “Grandpa Bin needs to speed up.” And then Dongmin smiled brightly, a breathy giggle escaping his lips.

That was when Bin realized he was so majorly fucked.  _ Thanks a-fucking-lot MJ, you goddamn cupid. _


End file.
